


Balm

by MapleleafCameo



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic), Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: Anxiety, Canon compliant drinking, Check Please/Kushiel’s Legacy Fusion, Demisexual Jack, Depression, Eric has had plenty of sex with other people, Happy Ending, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, You don’t have to have read Kushiel’s Legacy, because, hes a courtesan, jack and bitty are the same age, mention of overdose, religious prostitution, sex therapy, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 13:32:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18874192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleleafCameo/pseuds/MapleleafCameo
Summary: Jack meets an adept of The Night Court three times. A Tale of modern day Terre d'Ange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story, which is a Check Please/Kushiel’s Legacy fusion, takes place in modern day Terre d’Ange. I have taken a bit of license but that’s what fan fiction is for.  
> If you haven’t ready the Kushiel’s Legacy series by Jacqueline Carey here’s what you need to know for this story.  
> The original series takes place in an alternate medieval France called Terre d’Ange.  
> Elua, basically the son of Yeshua and the Magdalene and Mother Earth (it’s complicated!) found the country with his Companions (angels sent by The One God to stop Elua and most of them decided they liked his philosophy of ‘Love As Thou Wilt’) who all had a whole bunch of sex with the local folk. They also gave their children gifts of agriculture, navigation, healing, etc. The population boomed and because everyone is descended from angels, they are beautiful. The only other Companion you need to know for this story is Naamah. She freed Elua from capture and also earned coin to feed him. The whole outlook on love centres around Elua’s philosophy and Naamah’s Service. The other thing you should know is because of the worship of Naamah, the population is pretty open about sex, they don’t seem to mind who you sleep with and no one (usually) cares as long as it’s consensual. Naamah’s Service made the courtesan part of town an integral part of society and acceptable. Basically it’s a form of religious prostitution. It is know as The Court of Night Blooming Flowers or The Night Court. There are thirteen houses. Each house is named after a flower that, like the courtesans, blooms better at night. Each house follows a different interpretation of Naamah’s Service. A courtesan belonging to the Night Court has an elaborate tattoo or marque, unique to each house, is placed on their back. Money from gifts above the cost of the time with the courtesan are said to be patron gifts and homage to Naamah. The fee for the time with the courtesan goes to the house. It takes time for the marque to be completed and when it is then the courtesan’s free to either stay and continue to earn through the House or to set up their own salon. 
> 
> That’s a simple explanation of a complex society.  
> Here’s a link if you wish to learn more.[Kushiel's Dart](https://www.tor.com/2017/07/12/everything-you-need-to-know-about-kushiels-dart)  
>  
> 
> I have had a hard time writing since last summer and am very nervous about posting again. I'm working on other stories as well - I have been attempting to writing something every day and hope to update them soon. Thank you for your patience.

Almost a year.

 

It felt like the longest period of time.

 

Nearly a year, and although he felt a little more human, slightly more focussed, he tired easily. Counselling certainly helped and carefully monitored medication. The panic attacks happened less frequently, and when they did, most wouldn’t know.

 

The only thing left to fight seemed to be shame.

 

Why he felt ashamed, he couldn’t articulate. In particular, it happened when he thought about Kenny, when he remembered the two of them together and when he thought about after. It suffused his entire being and sent him spiralling if dwelt upon.

 

Sipping from the cup of now cold tea, he sighed.

 

“Sweetheart, it takes time.”

 

“I know.” He looked at his hands. They didn’t shake today. “There are things I still need to figure out. Things about me.” He huffed. “It’s just hard to talk about.”

 

“Is some of this about you and…?”

 

Jack shrugged.

 

“You can tell me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have heard before.”

 

“Yeah, but you're my mother.”

 

“Oh darling,” Alicia paused. “You're father says I think everyone is as open about sex as I am.”

 

“I just, I just feel…” He clenched his hands. “I don’t know if I can ever…again. I feel broken, I guess.”

 

She looked out of the window, tapping the side of her teacup and muttered something under her breath. With a decisive look, she said, “Darling, would you like to come home with me? I have an idea I think would help. Help you to understand that there’s nothing wrong with you.”

 

“Maman…”

 

“Jack.”

 

“If this is about getting me laid…”

 

“Oh dear Blessed Elua, no. Sweetheart, you know my beliefs, you know where I’m from, you know that it’s sacred.”

 

“Do you honestly think sex will solve all of my problems?”

 

“No, of course not, but it’s more than sex. It’s about helping you to know you're not flawed, you're normal. And it doesn’t have to be sex.”

 

Jack looked into the dregs of his cup. “If I say yes, if I go and it doesn’t work, will you leave me to be miserable?”

 

She placed her hand on his cheek. “I do this out of love, my darling. I am giving you this because I believe it will help.”

 

“Fine,” he said. “I guess it’s better than the depths of despair.”

 

“You know, you can be awfully melodramatic.”

 

His lips twitched. “I wonder where I get it from.”

 

“We may never know,” she laughed and then seriously, “you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to or aren’t comfortable doing. The servants of Namaah, they will understand and accept.”

 

He nodded, but he had no desire to continue this particular conversation at the moment so he stood, kissed her on the cheek and took their cups into the kitchen.

 

Alicia booked the plane tickets and texted Morraine Travers, the Dowayne of Balm House to make arrangements. Then she called her agent in the City of Elua to find a house to rent.

 

It wasn’t Jack’s first trip to Terre d’Ange. His mother travelled there at least once a year, usually alone, but sometimes his father went with her. Once or twice when he’d been younger, his mother took him to the province of her birth, Navarre. He’d been to Siovale to go skiing, but this would be his first trip to the City of Elua.

 

His mother, the beautiful and talented Alicia nó Eglantine, shone with exquisite light and her voice won her many coveted roles on the stage. Having an adept from The Night Court for a mother made Jack familiar with the stories of Terre d’Ange, even if some seemed too fantastic to be true.

 

“The difference between fairy tales and the history of your ancestors is that fairytales are make-believe,” Alicia told him when he was little.

 

They left for Terre d’Ange a few days after their conversation. On the plane, Jack tried to watch a movie and then tried to read, but the thought of what his mother wanted for him made him nervous.

 

“They’ll think you’re of Kushiel’s line, with your father’s colouring. And goodness knows he could be, except the eyes,” she laughed and blushed. He didn't want to think about why she laughed, so he tried reading his book, a history of the Master of the Straits.

 

The driver Alicia had hired met them at the airport. She hated driving in the city. The rental house, located on a quiet street, looked comfortable. Inside, the rooms were small but elegant. The garden behind sat neat and pretty, with an apple tree ready to burst into a profusion of buds. Spring flowers were in bloom and a bird sang its heart out. The air, smelling sweeter even than in the woods back home, felt warm and the sun seemed bright. Jack could sense the first stirrings of interest in something outside of his loss and grief. Whether it had to do with simply being in the land of his ancestors or something else entirely, he couldn’t say.

 

For the first few days, Jack stayed in the garden, reading or thinking, not quite ready to explore the city.

 

On the fourth morning, Alicia, serving him breakfast, said, “are you up to exploring the city today?”

 

“Are you trying to make me be sociable?”

 

“Perhaps. I’ve never taken you to Naamah’s temple. It is something you should see.”

 

In the afternoon they went to the Great Temple of Naamah, a pretty, white marble building. A priest dressed in red robes met them. “In the name of Naamah, be welcome.” He bestowed the kiss of greeting on Alicia. “Welcome, Alicia nó Eglantine Zimmermann. To have you visit us once more makes this day more lovely.”

 

“Brother Étienne, how kind of you to say. May I introduce you to my son, Jack?”

“Welcome, and may you find peace and love with Naamah.” He led them to the courtyard where a statue of Naamah, her arms held open, stood under the oculus open to the sky.

 

Alicia bowed her head. Jack stood watching as his mother prayed and then he closed his eyes. Whether it was his imagination or not, for a moment he felt calm for the first time in forever.

 

After, they wandered the gardens a while. Alicia told him again the story of Naamah and how during the time of Elua and the Companions, Elua had been captured and held prisoner by the King of Persis. To free him, Naamah lay with the King. “Each of the Houses in the Court of Night Blooming Flowers holds in their canon a different interpretation of why Naamah lay with the King.”

 

“Yes, Eglantine says he was charmed by her voice, by her singing.”

 

“Yes, indeed. However, in this case, I do not think Eglantine will be of help. I want you to go to Balm House. Do you know why?”

 

“No.”

 

“Because their motto is ‘Rest and be Soothed’. They believe Naamah went to the King of Persis in compassion, to heal him, for she believed his soul was in pain.”

 

Jack felt tears sting his eyes.

 

“I understand you are hurting, my love, but Balm House can show you that you're not broken.”

 

He scrubbed at his face.

 

“Jack, sweetheart, will you try?”

 

He looked at her, the tears spilling over. “Yes,” he whispered.

 

Refusing to let his mother go with him to Balm House, he had the driver dropped him off. He walked to the gate and pressed the intercom.

 

A pleasant voice welcomed him and asked for his name and the gate swung open to admit him. A short path led to a low, sprawling house where a fountain splashed. The morning breeze rippled the water and Jack felt a few droplets hit his skin. Deep greenery surrounded the cobblestone courtyard and songbirds flitted in the trees. The air held the scent of lavender.

 

A servant opened the door for him and led him to the main foyer where a stately, older woman greeted him. “Welcome, Jack Zimmermann, to Balm House. May you find healing, comfort and rest inside our walls. I am Morraine Travers, Dowayne of Balm House. I know your mother of old.” She gave him the kiss of greeting. “I have prepared for you a selection of our most skilled healers to attend. I'll introduce you so you may choose who would suit you best. If you feel none are for you be assured we will find you someone who will.” The Dowayne led him to an inner room with low benches covered in silk pillows, velvet throws and thick carpet under his feet.

 

While he waited, he didn’t know where to look or what to do until the Dowayne returned, with three adepts. His eyes were drawn immediately to one, a young man. He stood straight-backed and confident in a grey silk robe and trousers, which clung to his fit, compact body. His blonde hair, short on the sides, flopped over his forehead. A pert mouth and upturned nose gave him a saucy, cheerful look. Something about him reminded him of Kenny, even though they weren’t much alike past the surface. Kenny’s eyes were ever changing, never settling on any particular colour and this man’s were brown, a brown that his mother, in more poetic moments, would call bistre. Unending kindness lit the depths of those eyes and graced his face. Something in the expression brought to mind the beautiful statue of Naamah in the temple. He was beautiful.

 

“And this is Eric nó Balm, one of our most skilled adepts. Whichever one pleases you, they will be able to guide you in your healing.”

 

Jack’s mouth was dry. He realized he had no idea of the names of the others. “Um, yes, he, he, euh, pleases me, Eric.”

 

“Thank you, Jack,” Eric said. He bowed gracefully and held out his hand. Jack took it, his skin tingling, and they walked down the hallway towards the back of the house.

 

Eric, his voice pleasant, said, “I hope you'll enjoy your stay with me. I'll do my best to help you relax and feel at ease. I find it easier to speak about the things that trouble you when you're more comfortable and we have plenty of time for you to feel at ease for you'll stay until the morning.” His smile lit his whole face and Jack felt his lips wanting to respond in kind. “If anything I suggest makes you uncomfortable or you don't want to do it, please let me know. All right?”

 

Jack nodded, unsure of what to say.

 

They stopped in front of a closed door. “These are the bathing rooms,” Eric said. “If you will permit me, I'd like to start with relaxing in the steam room. Then, if you are amiable, a massage and perhaps some refreshments. Next a warm bath, supper and then,” he looked at Jack through long golden lashes, blushing becomingly, “we will retire to my room. Does this sound acceptable?”

 

Jack breathed, a soft, “yes. That sounds wonderful.”

 

“During this time, you may feel the desire to speak of your pain and grief. If not,” he shrugged. “Sometimes it’s easier to share. Sometimes it’s not. I’m here to help you, but there’s no pressure.” He laid a hand on Jack’s arm and then they went through the door into a changing area.

 

Jack began to lift his shirt, but Eric’s hand stayed him. “No, sugar, let me. I'm here for you.”

 

Eric removed each piece of Jack's clothing and folded them with care. After asking permission, he touched and stroked his skin, and asked him questions about where he held tension.

 

Jack, who was used to being naked in front of other men in changing rooms, thought he’d blush and feel ashamed, but Eric moved in sure, confident movements and made him feel at ease. He draped a soft, thick towel around Jack’s hips and then, after removing his clothes, donned a towel as well. They entered the steam room and Eric guided Jack to a bench to lie on. A brazier in the centre of the room glowed red with hot stones. Eric poured scented water onto the stones and steam rose, blanketing them. He came to sit at Jack’s head and wiped his brow with a soft, wet cloth.

 

“You're very beautiful,” Eric said.

 

Jack frowned. He didn't feel beautiful.

 

Eric put his hand on Jack’s forehead and down his face. “Someone hurt you.”

 

Jack shrugged again.

 

Eric nodded. “I’m here now.”

 

Just as Jack began to feel drowsy, Eric stood up and led him into the next room, most of which was an enormous shower. Eric left Jack to rinse off and returned to help to dry his back and they went into a quiet room with a massage table in the centre of the room.

 

“You may don a pair of trousers or you may prefer not. It is easier to massage your legs with them off.”

 

“Um, I guess I’ll say no.”

 

“I won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

 

“No, I know.” He felt strangely at ease with Eric, in a way he seldom felt about strangers. It might be his manner and confidence or it might be something else.

 

Jack mounted the table, while Eric walked around the room, lighting candles and incense. He asked Jack to lie on his stomach so he could start on his back and pulled a blanket up to cover Jack’s hips.

 

Eric began by spreading warm, scented oil on Jack and massaged his shoulders in firm, even strokes. The sore muscles began to loosen and made Jack feel languid. Moving down to the middle of his back and his sides, Eric took his time. He leaned close and whispered, “may I?”

 

Jack grunted, half asleep under the soothing sweep of Eric’s hands. The blanket moved to cover his back and shoulders to keep the chill off and then lifted off of his buttocks.

 

Jack tensed slightly, lifting his head.

 

“Is this ok?”

 

He nodded. “It’s just…it isn’t that I’m uncomfortable, it’s just that it may be too soon.”

 

He could sense rather than see Eric’s nod. “I understand, sweetheart. I don’t want to rush you into anything. I’ll massage your legs if I may.” He moved the blanket back over Jack’s buttocks and started on his legs and feet. Jack groaned aloud as Eric pressed into the arch of each foot. After turning Jack over, he massaged Jack’s front but was more cautious about touching him near his hips. He then sat at Jack’s head and worked on his scalp and neck. When he finished, he lowered the lights more and snuffed out most of the candles.

 

“Lie here while I ensure all is ready.”

 

Jack fell asleep and woke when Eric touched his shoulder.

 

“You must be so very tired.” He offered a glass of cool water flavoured with lemon and mint. Jack gratefully drained it. Eric helped him into silk trousers and a robe similar to his own and led him to a small room where a light lunch sat on a table. While they ate, they chatted about small things. Eric asked him if he’d had much chance to explore the City. Jack told him about the trip to the temple.

 

“I love the temple. I was allowed to dedicate to Naamah there. Usually, adepts dedicate in the house temple, but I begged Dowayne Morraine.”

 

“How old were you?” Jack asked.

 

“I dedicated at sixteen and started my service at eighteen. I’m nineteen now. Long ago, adepts dedicated at thirteen, can you imagine? And they began their service at sixteen.”

 

“You’re nineteen? I’m nineteen.”

 

He smiled his pert smile. “I’m so very honoured you chose me, Jack.”

 

Jack looked at his nearly empty plate his hands trembling. “I’m not sure I can, um…that I’ll be able…I haven’t for a while since my friend and me…”

 

Eric placed a finger on his lips. “Shhh. It’s all right, honey. Whatever happens, will happen. I don’t expect you to share yourself if you’re not ready. Tonight may just be talk and sleep. Or just sleep. Either way, I’ll do my best to help you. The act of worshipping Naamah is a blessed thing. Naamah fills us with desire, not to punish us or shame us but to find pleasure. Things like lovemaking aren’t sins, Jack. You’ve done nothing wrong, to love your friend.”

 

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears. He felt the brush of a hand on his face and opened his eyes to see Eric smiling at him, tears in his eyes as well.

 

“Whatever happens tonight, I’ll be there.”

 

After lunch, they entered the bathing room. The large tub, sunk into the floor, steamed. Rose petals and lavender floated on the surface. A pile of thick towels sat close by. After removing his clothes once again, Jack stepped in and lay back against the top of the tub. Eric placed a rolled towel under his neck. He then gently poured water over Jack’s hair and rubbed shampoo soothingly into Jack’s hair.

 

“If it’s okay, I would like to enter the tub.”

 

Eyes closed, he nodded feeling too languid to care. The water displaced and he opened his eyes.

 

He hadn’t looked carefully at Eric before, being too shy and nervous. His body was perfectly proportioned and much more muscular than he appeared clothed. As he turned his back to reach over to pick up a loofah and some soap, Jack could see an almost completed marque of yellow flowers and broad green leaves. Eric asked if he could wash him.

 

Pleasant chatter made Jack feel more relaxed. After finishing, Eric leaned close to Jack but did not touch him. He did reach out and brushed Jack’s shaggy hair out of his eyes.

 

“You could use a hair cut.”

 

“It’s been a while.” Jack felt his heart beat a bit faster.

 

“Would you like to come out of the bath now? We can dine in one of the private gardens if you’d like.”

 

“That would be lovely."

 

Eric dried him off and helped him dress once more in the trousers and robe. They went out to a small garden, which basked in the warm air and soft light, later than Jack thought possible. A small table for two held a plate for each with chicken, a complicated rice dish and some steamed vegetables, and a large pitcher filled with water.

 

Eric said, “No wine with dinner, correct?”

 

“Yes, that's right, thank you. It interferes with my medication.”

 

They were silent for a moment, before Jack asked, “How did you decide to enter Naamah’s service?”

 

Eric chewed thoughtfully and said, “It’s a bit of a long story but basically I was left on the doorstep. I am a foundling child. Those sorts of things are not as common in the City of Elua as elsewhere, but it does happen.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“When I was younger, I felt sad and had a good deal of anger, but I grew up in Balm. It specializes in healing the mind and the heart, although usually, it deals with issues with lovemaking, either inability or confusion or with the aftermath of sexual assault. I came to understand that my mother might have been in a difficult situation. So although I feel a lot of complex sorrow, it’s manageable. I continue to work through feelings of abandonment or neglect even though they no longer hold me.” He looked around the garden. “The work the adepts do helped me decide I belonged here. Being left in their care was Elua's will. I’ve worked with those who've been scarred by violence or by abandonment and helped many discover their sexuality and identity. When my marque is made, I hope to further my studies.”

 

“Your marque is beautiful.”

 

“Thank you,” Eric said, a soft blush on his face. “I like it, although I am not fond of the limning. It hurts. Another two inches and I’m finished.” He smiled infectiously and Jack smiled back.

 

After a few more bites, Jack said, “my mother was from Eglantine House, but she decided she wasn’t a good fit for Naamah’s service. She liked performing better.”

 

“I'm a bit of a fan, I must say. She has a lovely voice.”

 

“She doesn’t perform as much as she used to.”

 

“Your father's hockey player, correct? Hockey isn’t as big a sport here as in your country.”

 

Jack frowned. “My father is famous too and…” he turned his head, still frowning and stared blankly out at the darkening garden. “I’m a disappointment to him.”

 

Eric moved his hand across the table and opened it, palm up, offering it to Jack who took it.

 

“I mean, intellectually I know I’m not a disappointment but emotionally it’s a different matter.” Jack found himself spilling the story of growing up the son of two famous parents, how he pushed himself and the constant comparison to his father and mother. Telling Eric was so much easier than it had ever been with any of his therapists. He told him about meeting Kent and the way they fit together on the ice and off. Kent had been his one true friend and he thought he’d loved him. He found himself attracted to the way he moved and his seeming confidence. They fell into a wild round of sex and drinking. He couldn’t get enough of Kent; he had to have him against his skin to feel alive. But the competition between them overwhelmed his anxiety and he began taking more pills.

 

“And then he went first in the draft, the first pick for hockey teams and I couldn’t handle it. I kept thinking about how disappointed my father would be and I was so angry and jealous. Kent should have been his son. Blaming Kenny was easier than admitting I was scared. I took too many anxiety pills. I still don’t know if it was on purpose or if I just wanted to drown out the voices in my head. I woke up in the ambulance. They’d had to restart my heart.”

 

He looked over at Eric, still holding his hand. His kind, beautiful face held no judgement, only compassion. “Kenny came to see me right after, but it was too soon. He tried to hug me and I yelled. A lot. He was so scared but trying not to show it. I refused to listen to him and told him it was his fault, even though I know it wasn’t or at least not entirely. I told him I didn’t love him or ever had. He got mad and told me I didn’t deserve to be first pick, that I screwed up my chance to play and my father must be humiliated of his son to be so weak. I felt so angry and ashamed. I knew he was right; I fucked up everything. I told my parents not to answer his messages. Finally, he gave up. I know I owe him a lot of apologies.”

 

“Ever since I have felt so broken, I still feel so lost. Besides working through depression and anxiety, I haven’t been interested in sex or even in other people. Some of it’s the medication I’m on, but I have absolutely no interest whatsoever. I sometimes feel I don’t deserve happiness.” He sighed. “Or to ever love someone again.”

 

Eric squeezed his hand and thought for a minute. “Jack, I’d like to ask you a few questions if I may. Did you have many experiences liking people or falling in love before Kent?”

 

Jack frowned, thinking. “Not really. I mean I had a few I guess you’d call them crushes, but no, Kenny was my first. Maman had arranged an adept for me for my coming of age, but I had no interest and she didn’t push it.”

 

“You liked him first? Became close?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Eric nodded. “Have you heard the term demisexual?”

 

“Euh, no, I don’t think so.”

 

“A demisexual person is someone who doesn't experience sexual attraction unless they form a strong emotional connection. There’s nothing wrong with you or broken, it just means you aren’t one for one-night stands or sex just for sex. You need to know the person first, like them, spend time with them. I think when you return home you might wish to mention this to your therapist. They could help you find more information about it.” He paused, taking a moment to think. “You say Kenny was very important to you, you both were good hockey players, top of your sport and you spent a lot of time together in intense circumstances.”

 

Nodding, Jack said, “I’ve been talking to my therapist about that and we think it’s all connected, all the hockey and the anger and the disappointment.”

 

“You’ve been through a very difficult time. I think once you finish working through all of this you’ll be able to love again. I think that once you move away from all of these connected feelings you’ll find someone. You aren’t broken, sweetheart. You’re just you. What about playing hockey? Do you plan to return to it?”

 

“Maybe. I’ve been thinking about going to school some more, back home. I think I’d like a break from the pressure of the professional leagues, but maybe play hockey at a school while I get a degree.”

 

“That sounds like something you’ve been giving a lot of thought.” Eric shivered a bit. “Would you like to continue this conversation inside? We can sit in my room. I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want to. Especially now that I think you aren’t all that interested.” Eric smiled, his face merry.

 

“Um, it’s not that I’m not interested…”

 

“Honey, you won’t hurt my feelings, I promise. Although, I can’t deny that you are pretty much my type.”

 

Jack laughed.

 

“Now there you go! That’s the first laugh I’ve heard out of you!” He held out his hand to Jack and they went into the house towards the sleeping quarters.

 

When Eric entered the room, he lit some candles and turned down the covers on the very large four-poster bed. “Come and sit. We’ll just talk.” He patted the bed and smiled, his head tilted. Jack came and sat beside him.

 

And they did talk. They talked far into the night. Jack couldn’t say when they stretched out on their sides, facing each other. Eventually, they circled back to Jack’s fears.

 

“It’s not that I don't want to have sex, you know? It’s just I’m afraid I can’t have sex. Like, like he took something from me. Or I gave something up.”

 

Eric placed a hand on his chest and said. “You'll be able to when you’re ready and when you met the right person. “

 

“It’s hard to believe.”

 

“You’ve lost faith in yourself, in who you thought you were. You have sex tied up with Kenny. All of your hopes and everything you worked for was with him and it’s very confusing now. “

 

What Eric said sounded a lot like what his therapist said but Jack found himself listening this time.

 

“You’re not mad that I don’t want to have sex with you?”

 

Eric laughed. Such a beautiful laugh. “No, of course not. I mean,” he shrugged, “for me, it’s a sacred act, but sometimes it is more important to sit and talk and listen. To force sex upon someone who is not ready or not interested, that’s a sin. I would never do that. Naamah would turn her back on me and I would lose my ability to heal. There’s a different sort of pleasure in helping someone. I honour her just as much. And she’s happy that eventually this will lead you to give proper homage to her.” He nudged Jack with his shoulder. “Perhaps you’ll come back here and I’ll be the one who can worship with you.” He said it with a smile and he kissed Jack on the forehead. “Now I think it’s time to sleep, Jack. I promise nothing will harm you while you are here.”

 

Jack smiled. He reached out, touched Eric’s face and then he closed his eyes. He was asleep in moments.

 

In the morning, he awoke refreshed from the best night he’d had in a long time.

 

Eric lay asleep beside him. Jack reached over and brushed the hair off of his face. He blinked awake and smiled. “Good morning, you beautiful man. Are you hungry?”

 

“Famished.”

 

After dressing, they went back to the private garden where they had sweet rolls and coffee. They chatted about innocuous things. After, Jack dressed in his clothes, which had been cleaned and returned to Eric’s room.

 

When Jack left to go, he stopped at the table beside the bed and placed a few bills on it.

 

“For you.”

 

“Jack, please, you don't need to give me a patron gift.”

 

“You deserve it. You’ve made me more at peace than I’ve been in a long time. You’ve given me hope and a lot to think about.” He bent and kissed Eric. Their lips touched and Jack deepened the kiss, a fleeting feeling of heat in his belly.

 

Eric pulled away first, looking thoughtful. “Blessing of Naamah and Elua upon you Jack Zimmermann. I truly hope we’ll meet again.”

 

“Blessings upon you, Eric nó Balm. Someday I would love to see your finished marque.” He kissed Eric again and left.

 

His mother raised an eyebrow when he returned to the house. She didn’t say anything when Jack told her that it had been a good experience.

 

“I’d like to try going to college when we get back home. I think I’m ready to face the world again.”

 

Alicia smiled, wiped her eyes and kissed her son. After a few minutes, she said, under her breath, “I told you so.”

 

Jack rolled his eyes and smiled.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes for this chapter.
> 
> Additional Tags and Characters Added - please check
> 
> The Longest Night is the biggest celebration D’Angelines partake in. It takes place during the longest night of the year and is sort of a New Year’s eve/costume party extravaganza. During this party joie is consumed, a potent liquor similar to ice wine. A play of sorts is acted out, with a young woman portraying the Winter Queen who has her youth and beauty restored to her by the Sun Prince when the hour of the sun’s return occurs. In the books one of the royal princesses actually plays the Sun Prince so I took a little licence here with some gender swapping D’Angeline society is actually pretty progressive, but it gave Shitty a chance to be, well, Shitty. 
> 
> A Cassiline Brother follows the path of Cassiel (no, not Mischa Collins). Cassiel was the only Companion who chose to remain faithfully by Elua’s side but he felt guilt at turning his back on the One God. He alone of the companions did not commingle with humans. A school of warrior priests formed around Cassiel and his role of Perfect Companion and they guarded the royal family and important personages. 
> 
> Skaldi are basically Viking type people, Tiberia is Rome and Erie is of course Ireland. 
> 
> The Exile’s Lament is a famous poem/song written by the King’s Poet when she was in exile. D’Angeline’s are very connected to their homeland in a transcendental way.
> 
> I didn’t include a lot of the sexual terms used in Kushiel’s Legacy series, mostly because I figured the words used would be different. and I don’t have my book with me at the moment. XD
> 
> If a Servant of Naamah has doubts or has perhaps served Naamah for the wrong reasons, they must go to the temple and be expunged of the guilt and heresy against Naamah. If the reason is for love or another good explanation, Naamah is usually a kind and understanding goddess.

“Here you go, brahski! Give this a try.”

 

Jack accepted the plastic Champagne glass dubiously and stared at the clear liquid inside. “What is it?”

 

“That extraordinary elixir is Shitty’s Tub joie, baby!”

 

“Um, Shitty, I say this as your friend and as a D’Angeline, there’s no such thing and I’m pretty sure you’re cheapening my heritage. And joie should be served in tiny, crystal glasses.”

 

“Jack, my love, my beautiful angel boy, I am fucking hurt. You haven’t even tried it. I go to all this trouble to recreate The Longest Night Celebration for you and our Handsome Ransom and you insult me? Bro! It’s the spirit of the occasion, m’dude.”

 

Jack frowned. True, Shitty’d spent way too much time planning a special Kegster slash Longest Night Masque for Jack and Ransom. Although, deep inside, Jack suspected Shitty only used it as an excuse to have a Kegster.

 

He took a cautious sip and accidentally inhaled before practically spitting it on the floor. “Dear Elua, Naamah and all of the Companions. Shitty, that is most definitely not joie.” He coughed. “What did you put in there?”

 

“It’s my secret which I shall take to the grave.”

 

“Only because it will kill you.”

 

“Wow! See if I make it for you ever again. Now you’d better skedaddle and get your costume on. What did you decide to wear? Some ancient historical figure? Gonna get all fucking Imriel de la Courcel on me? Because you’d rock that brooding prince look.”

 

“I’m not telling you. You’re not supposed to know who I am.”

 

Jack started to climb the stairs to his room and Shitty called after him, “Doesn’t matter! I’ll always know who you are, Jackabelle! I’d recognize that angelic ass anywhere.”

 

Although he hadn’t celebrated Longest Night for several years, it remained his favourite holiday. As a youngster, his mother planned elaborate parties and invited famous guests. She would let him stay up a bit later than usual and he’d greet the guests with a laden tray of joie. Real joie, imported especially, not that rotgut of whatever the hell Shitty’d thrown into his mixing tub.

 

Deciding to try and cultivate a better frame of mind, he took a quick nap and then hopped in the shower. Afterward, he brought out of his closet the box his mother sent him last week. Normally uncomfortable partaking in Shitty’s Kegsters, this one felt special. Most likely it would be the last one of his college career. Shitty’d gone to a lot of trouble so he felt an obligation to enjoy it and he might as well do the thing properly.

 

Opening the box, he pulled out his mask, and laid it on top of the desk. The mask made the costume. On his bed were the high end street clothes he’d laid out earlier. His black jeans, customer tailored to fit his ‘angelic ass’, a tight, black, t-shirt and his Doc Martins. At the bottom of the box lay a rather expensive black, velvet frock coat with silver buttons that would go on over the whole outfit. He’d be warm in it but he thought he should at least wear it for a bit. He shook his hair back and picked up the mask. Designed to fit over the upper half of his face, it swept down and covered his prominent cheekbones and nose to lay just above his lips. Beautifully sewn by a friend of Alicia’s, he’d worn it once before. Fortunately the material had enough give in it to still fit his face.

 

He looked in the mirror. A black cat looked back. Black sequins outlined the arch of the eyes and realistic whiskers accented it. The ears were silky and tilted forward slightly.

 

He could see quite well, one of the benefits of wearing a D’Angeline made mask. Time to join the party.

 

Most people at the college dressed for the Longest Night Kegster and Midwinter Smash as if they were going to a regular costume party. He wove his way through an assortment of witches, ghosts and comic book heroes. Only a few had actual masks. Only a handful of people at Samwell were D’Angeline. The rest didn’t understand the significance. Here and there, however, some had researched the tradition and a smattering of truly epic costumes lent colour and authenticity. A very good Cassiline Brother stood at the pong table. Incongruously, it looked like he was winning. A decent mendicant talked drunkenly to two vampires and a Skaldi warrior. He recognized Ransom, of course, who wore a more traditional costume and managed to get Holster in similar garb of Tiberian style robes with masks of ancient Emperors.

 

Looking for Shitty, he figured he’d probably be out on the porch with his bootleg joie. Jack shuddered at the memory of the taste. It looked like Shitty’d convinced several frogs to be joie bearers. How they’d been coerced into carrying trays filled with glasses to pass out to unsuspecting guests, he’d no idea. Each frog wore a white t-shirt with Joy Bearer printed on the front in Sharpie marker along with silver garland wrapped around their necks like boas.

 

Then he saw Shitty and did a double take. He, of all people, wore a traditional costume, albeit not one usually meant for men.

 

Jack laughed, pretty much giving his identity away. “Trust you to dress as the Winter Queen.”

 

“Shhhhh. No one’s supposed to know who I am, my dear Stranger. And I’ll have you know that it’s time D’Angeline society let men dress up as The Winter Queen.”

 

“Yes, but it’s only been about twenty years since the Cassiline Brotherhood accepted women into their ranks so you know, baby steps, Shits. Please tell me you’ve got a Sun Prince coming tonight.”

 

“I guess you’re going to have to wait and see. Now be a good kitty and go mingle. This fucking Kegster is for you.” He handed Jack a glass and said, ”Joy, you beautiful fucker.”

 

Jack grimaced, his desire to avoid drinking the faux joie warning with family history and love of tradition.

 

“Joy.” He hedged and pretended to sip. He’d figure out where to hide the glass later.

 

In spite of it all, Jack enjoyed himself. He chatted with a few of the students from his photography class and had an in-depth discussion about the use of war chariots in the Battle of Troyes-le-Mont with a young woman who turned out to be an exchange student from Eire.

 

After several hours, he decided that maybe he’d sneak off for a bit and regroup as he’d socialized more than he liked. He’d head upstairs, take off his coat, spend some quiet time in his room and come back down when it neared the time for the Sun Prince to arrive.

 

As he began to make his way through the crowded room, about a dozen newcomers entered the Haus. Each wore elaborate and decidedly D’Angeline costumes. Jack, intrigued, stepped closer, noticing a few of the costumes were designed to reveal the backs of the guests. Intricate marques limned their skin.

 

“Where’d he find Servants of Naamah?”

 

Shitty greeted them exuberantly, throwing his arms around a young woman who barely reached his shoulder. Dark haired, with an impish smile her costumed made her look like a painting. The taller woman beside her, with long blonde hair, dressed as a snowy owl and the glimpse of her marque indicated she must be from Cereus House. Jack could see she gave a start at Shitty’s costume but with the discipline and training from that oldest of Houses, she covered nicely and greeted him politely.

 

Two young men, one tall and pale and one with curly black hair and light brown skin were the muses Calliope and Erato and their bare backs bore the completed marque of Gentian, the House of Dreamers.

 

The last to enter drew Jack’s eye. Not much taller than the first young woman, he wore brown velvet and an elaborate rabbit mask. As he turned to speak to the snowy owl, his costume revealed his bared back, showing his marque of yellow flowers and broad green leaves. Balm House.

 

A beautiful smile, eyes of bistre, the memory of lavender, and sense of unending compassion filled him. It’d been years since he’d seen Eric, but images of him surfaced throughout his day and echoed in dreams at night. The thought of him calmed him. The emptiness of not knowing what he’d done with his life filled him with longing. The thrill of it excited him and scared him with its intensity. The day and night spent with Eric sent Jack on the path to college and sustained him when things were dark.

 

Not sure if he should approach, his stomach knotted. He wanted to go and to him, but doubted Eric would remember him. He’d have had many clients in the years in between. How had he ended up here, at Jack’s college, at this party?

 

Standing in front of the group, unaware of how he’d got there, Shitty waved him closer. “Jack, come and meet the surprise I’ve been saving for you!” He snagged his arm and drew him close. “My lovely Servants of Naamah, meet Jack Zimmermann. Jack, this is Larissa Duan of Eglantine House. This is John and Derek from Gentian, Camilla, March, Connor from Cereus and Eric from Balm. They’re in the neighbourhood to see if they can open a salon, bringing to the masses their worship of Namaah. Isn’t that fucking amazing? I met Larissa at the art museum and told her about the Longest Night Kegster and Midwinter Smash. She said she’d bring some friends. Who loves you more than your mother and is the best fucking friend you’ve ever had?”

 

Eyes on Eric, Jack spoke to the whole group. <Welcome. May this night bring you joy, in the name of Elua, Naamah and the Companions.> he said in D’Angeline. And then he added, <For the love of Elua, please don’t drink the joie. You’ll regret it.>

 

The young woman, Larissa, wrinkled her nose at him, laughed and said, <Namaah’s tits! You’re really Jack Zimmermann. Shitty wasn’t lying. Your mother is famous in Eglantine House.>

 

“Yes, she was,” said Jack switching back, because Shitty looked barely able to contain himself and his mother would have scolded his lack of manners. They gave Jack the kiss of greeting and began making their way into the Haus and through the rest of the revellers until only Eric stood there.

 

“Hello,” Jack said.

 

Eric, in his brown rabbit mask, tilted his head and smiled. “Hello Jack. It’s wonderful to see you again. I had no idea you’d be here.”

 

“You remember me?”

 

“Of course. I never forget a client.” He turned to show Jack his back and looked at him over his shoulder. “You said you’d love to see my completed marque. What do you think?”

 

Jack’s hand rose to touch, but he dropped it just as quickly. “It’s very beautiful. “ He wanted to say and you’re very beautiful too, but it seemed to stick in his throat. His skin felt warm with the blush of unsaid words.

 

Eric smiled, “I’m so happy you decided to attend college. And hockey? Did you return to it?”

 

“I can’t believe you remember that as well.”

 

Eric took Jack’s hand in his, weaving their fingers together, and said, “You were memorable in so many ways, Jack. I’m so happy to see you again. I wasn’t sure we’d ever get the chance.” Something glimmered in the depths of those dark brown eyes, a mixture of fondness and perhaps regret. Sadness? Jack couldn’t be sure. The sound of the party washed over him and people flowed around them and it felt as if they were alone in a crowd. He only had eyes for Eric.

 

He began to ask if Eric wanted to find some place quiet where they could talk when Shitty stood up on the pool table and shouted out “Yo, bitches! The hour is at hand!” He snapped his fingers and someone extinguished the lights. A figure holding a Coleman lantern came from the direction of the kitchen dressed as the Sun Prince or at least a version of the Sun Prince from the depths of Shitty’s mind. They wore a yellow shirt and shorts. A homemade papier mache mask covered their face and what looked like spray painted ice cream cones in yellow and orange, hot glued to a hair band. They moved toward Shitty and held out a hand. The lights are back on as Shitty spun on the pong table and threw off the wig and cloak of the Winter Queen. Under the costume he’d worn his flag vest and cutoff shorts. He leaped off of the table and into the arms of the Sun Prince, whose mask fell off to reveal a grinning Chowder. Jack shook his head, hand over his face.

 

Eric laughed. “Your friend is quite the character, isn’t he? He should have been in Orchis House. Joy indeed.”

 

Jack grinned at Shitty’s antics and then glanced down at Eric. He looked up at him, his eyes behind his mask twinkling. A long dormant feeling welled up inside of him. He hadn’t expected it but he wasn’t going to ignore it. Even if Eric wasn’t interested or didn’t want to do more than talk. He’d be fine with that, too. “Would, um, would you like to go somewhere quiet? I mean, I don’t want to drag you away from the party. If, euh, if you want to stay, but I’d love to talk with you again.”

 

“I’d like that.”

 

Jack led Eric toward the stairs. The sound of the party receded. At the top of the stairs caution tape had been strung, but Jack climbed over it and Eric followed. Jack pulled his keys out of his pocket and opened his door, flicking on the light.

 

Once inside, he took off his mask and rubbed his face a bit. Eric pushed his mask off and held it in his hand. He stood in the doorway for a moment, looking around Jack’s room. The Be Better poster made him raise his eyebrows. The bookshelf drew him over and he ran a finger along the spines of the history books and he picked up a photo of Jack’s parents. He smiled and put it down, placing his mask beside it.

 

“I hope you don’t mind. I like to see what’s important to you.”

 

“I don’t mind.”

 

“There are a lot of D’Angeline books here. Lots of history.”

 

“Yes,” he said.

 

“Poetry, too.”

 

“Yes.” Jack took down a slim book. It was a collection of modern poets. “These are some of my favourites. It helps me feel I’m a part of it. I love living here and back home but my heart longs for a place there.”

 

“It’s difficult being away, but I’m glad to have come here with my friends. It’s not as lonely, but The Exiles Lament got it right.” He smiled again. Warm and rich. “I’m glad to see you again Jack.”

 

“Me too.”

 

Eric curled up in the chair at the desk, kicking his shoes off and tucking his feet underneath. Jack did the same on the bed. They talked of inconsequential things at first, music, poetry, movies, books. They spoke of politics and of the City. All the things they hadn’t spoken of that first night. They spoke to each other as friends reacquainting. The more they talked, the deeper Jack dove into the headlong rush of it all.

 

The night moved closer to daybreak and feelings strumming through his heart, things he wanted to say, wondering if he actually could say them.To take the chance, to try. If he didn’t, he might lose this opportunity. The words pressed so hard inside, they spilled out of their own accord. “Eric, when I saw you tonight, I realized I’ve thought of you every day. I wondered what you were doing and where you might be. If you were happy. I never dreamed you’d be so close. I thought maybe after graduation I’d take a trip to Terre d’Ange to see if I could find you. I don’t expect anything. If you wish to go, if you don’t want to stay here with me I’ll understand. But I wanted you to know I think I regret we never did more that night.”

 

“Do you?” Eric looked at him through his long eyelashes.

 

“Well, yes. I mean. I know it wasn’t what I needed that night. You helped me discover so much about myself. Things to think about. But, um, I’d like to think, perhaps, we connected.”

 

“I think we did too,” he said with a sad smile.

 

“Eric?”

 

Eric looked out of Jack’s window and not at Jack. “Everything I do, I do for Naamah and her service and I’ve been happy, Jack, I really have. Caring for others, helping. It’s part of who I am.” He crossed over to where Jack sat on the bed and placed his hands on Jack’s shoulders to lean over him.

 

“You can say no to me,” said Jack his hands flexed, itched to touch. “I wouldn't make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

 

“Yes, I know I can. It isn’t often I do, or would. As much as I love serving Namaah, sometimes,” he paused and pursed his lips. “It isn’t that there’s no choice, it’s just sometimes I don’t get to be selfish.” His hand came up and he brushed his fingers on Jack’s lips and trailed his fingers across his face, tracing his cheek and down the length of his jaw. “Jack, I want to be selfish.” He bent down to kiss him, sweet and chaste, a gentle press of lips. The thrill rippled through Jack and he could finally grasp the lithe waist and wrap his arms tightly around him. Swinging a leg over, Eric settled on Jack’s leg. Heat bloomed in his chest, in his abdomen, molten and searing, Eric’s body pliant against his. He could feel his heart beat, fast, like a little bird.

 

Jack broke off the kiss. “Stay with me? Please?”

 

“Do you know the tradition of tonight? For us? Those of the Night Court? We choose. We choose our partners. There is no payment except homage to Naamah.” He cupped Jack’s face again. “We choose,” and he kissed Jack, hard and with such a depth of feeling. “I want to be here with you tonight, Jack,” he whispered. “I want to lie in your arms and wake with you in the morning. I choose to be with you.”

Jack could feel Eric hard against his leg, how much he wanted him. He moaned into him and let his hand caress down his spine, feeling the warm skin underneath. Eric cupped Jack’s face with one hand, tilted his head and slowly lick into his mouth, gentle nips of his lips. His other hand trailed down to Jack’s jeans and he slipped a finger between them and Jack’s skin, hiking up his t-shirt.

 

Jack broke off the kiss and drank in the sight of Eric’s swollen mouth. He pulled at the top of his costume, bared the creamy shoulder to kiss the freckles along the left one and up the side of his neck. Eric turned his face so he had better access and Jack could hear the soft whimpers and breathy moans. He reached his ear and whispered. “I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. Please.”

 

Turning back to face Jack, he placed both hands on the side of his face and kissed him again, grinding down on Jack’s leg. He stopped for a moment topull off the top of his costume, while Jack struggled out of his shirt. They pressed their heated flesh against each other.

 

Jack pushed Eric off to scoop him up and place him gently on the bed. A part of him desperately wanted to take him, throw him and devour him. Make the sex rough and passionate. Consume him until there was nothing left of either of them. He also wanted to be gentle with him, treat him like the treasure he was, make it slow and tease with lips and tongue until Eric begged him. He chose the latter.

 

Placing a hand on either side of Eric’s head, legs lying alongside Eric’s, he loomed over not quite touching him. He kissed his forehead and brushed his lips on his eyelids. Slowly making his way down his face. Eric’s mouth opened and his eyes were closed until Jack stopped to look at him. Eric opened his eyes and stared back.

 

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. Let me love you tonight. Let me take care of you.” And he bent down to trace Eric’s jaw and neck with his lips.

 

He continued to his chest and paid slow attention to his nipples, working one with his fingers while he sucked and licked the other and then switching. Not having had much experience beyond the quick, animalistic sex he’d had with Kenny, he played Eric like an instrument, purely on instinct, feeling his way and listening to the sounds he made. His own body took over and he let it guide him.

 

When he reached Eric’s waist, he paused to undo the buttons on the brown trousers he wore, pulling them off. Eric’s swollen penis lifted. Long and thick, it’s head dark with the rush of blood. Jack bent down and sank his nose in the dark blond curls at the base, scenting him, scenting his arousal. Eric moaned and laid a hand on Jack’s head. Jack looked up at Eric and smiled wickedly.

 

He kissed the crease on either side and pushed up on one of his legs to kiss the knee and then the other. Then he sank down, pushing his legs apart as he did. He lay down so his face was directly in front of Eric’s penis and began to lick and kiss his balls. Eric moaned loader and he began to move his body, thrusting up and trying to create more contact. Jack laid a hand on his hip and pushed down, holding him in place.

 

He kissed the underside of his penis, which flexed and bobbed at the touch. Eric hissed. He licked again, up to the tip, sucking lightly at the slit. Eric’s hand in his hair pulled. Jack took him into his mouth. Working him in and out of his mouth , his tongue caressing and sliding up the shaft, Eric started babbling, speaking in D’Angeline, calling on Naamah. Eric’s hand tightened and he says, “Jack!” He arched and came in Jack’s mouth. It had been a while but it wasn’t something he’d forgotten how to do.

 

Eric lay shuddering on the bed for a minute. “Oh dear Elua, you're good at that. Are you sure you aren't trained in the arts of Naamah?” He sat up and pulled Jack up to him, crushing their mouths together. He licked into Jack’s mouth again. He then rolled Jack over with expert ease and straddled him.

 

“What would you like?” Eric asked, breathless.

 

“Would you do the same?”

 

In answer Eric began the slow decent down Jack’s chest to his penis and began decadent oral stimulation with all of the consummate skill of a Night Court trained adept. Jack had employed enthusiastic and youthful vigour. Eric employed every bit of training he’d learned. When Jack came with a shuddering groan, he’d never come so hard. When he could open his eyes again it was to see Eric licking his lips. Jack groaned again, kissed him and wrapped his arms around him, Eric’s back to his chest and pulled him close. He reached down and pulled the duvet over them. Kissing Eric’s shoulders, kissing the top of his marque, he rested his head on the pillow and with Eric’s scent in his nose he fell asleep.

 

Hours later, the late morning sun streaming into the window, across the bed and the light woke Jack. Eric stirred beside him, and with a groan of protest, turned in his arms to face him.

 

“Good morning,” Jack said.

 

“Is it still morning?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Eric snuggled down pressing his face against Jack’s chest while Jack rested his chin on the top of Eric’s. “I never want to leave.”

 

“I would like you to stay, but,” and he pressed a kiss into Eric;s hair. “But I know you can’t. I know you’ll have to go soon.”

 

Eric lifted his head and blinked slowly at Jack. “Not yet, but soon.” He sighed and snuggled back down. “I want to thank you, Jack, for such a beautiful night. I have never felt more cherished.” Jack felt the trickle of tears on his chest.

 

He placed a hand under Eric’s chin and lifted it. “Don’t cry.” He kissed his cheeks, tasting the salt from the tears.

 

“I’m not crying because I’m sad. Or not really. I just think, that, maybe, I don’t know.” He sniffed. “Maybe it’s been too much lately. I moved to a new country, I miss home. I’m not sure if I came here because I wanted a change or because I am following my calling. Maybe I left for the wrong reasons. Maybe I need to pray to Naamah for guidance.” He sat up and wiped his eyes before turning to Jack. “I think I could fall for you Jack, but I’m not sure this is the right time or if it’s because I am homesick. I’m not sure I left Terre d’Ange for the right reasons. Do you understand?”

 

Jack kissed him, in spite of Eric’s protests of morning breath and tears. “I understand,” he said, although his throat felt choked and closed and his heart ached more than it ever had. He kissed him and kissed him again, slow and sure. “I think you’re where I was when we first met. You need to find yourself, Eric. You need to see if this is the path Naamah and Elua want for you.” He pulled Eric against him, hugging him close. “You’re allowed to change your mind and to choose differently. You need to see if it’s because you’re just homesick or if you’re ready for change.”

 

Eric hiccuped quietly., “How did you get to be so wise?”

 

“I had a good teacher.” Jack smiled into Eric’s hair. He knew what he wanted but Eric needed to discover for himself if he wanted the same thing. Tears formed in his eyes. He’d just found him again.

 

But.

 

But Eric deserve to find his own path and he couldn’t keep him from it even if it made him miserable to let him go.

 

They kissed and it became heated and before long they’d both come once more from rutting up against each other. Jack led Eric to the bathroom where they showered, washing each other's hair.

 

“Not quite as luxurious as Balm House,” Jack laughed.

 

“No,” Eric smiled, “but just as relaxing.” He kissed Jack again as they dried off. “Thank you again for this night.”

 

“Anything for you.”

 

They dressed and Jack walked him out to the hall. As they came out, Shitty’s door opened and they watched as Larissa left, kissing him before turning to wink at Eric and Jack.

 

“I guess it’s time to go,” Eric said.

 

“I guess it is.”

 

“Maybe this time, I’ll keep in touch. If you’d like that.”

 

“I would.”

 

Eric kissed him one last time. And then he followed Larissa down the stairs.

 

Shitty stood by his doorway, paint smears down his body. Jack shook his head.

 

“Brah! You got soooome,” Shitty grinned at him.

 

He looked back to the stairs, indecision weighing his mind and then ran after Eric, catching him on the porch with the rest of the courtesans. He pulled Eric to one side, out of hearing of the rest, and said, “If you decided, you know, to leave for Terre d’Ange or if you decide you want something more than Naamah’s Service, let me know?”

 

Eric smiled, a bit watery, and said, “You’ll be the first to know.” He kissed him quickly and then followed the rest down the front steps and they all climbed into a large car parked in front of the Haus.

 

Jack watched them drive away, positive he saw Eric turn to wave as the car went around the corner and out of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this:)  
> No real notes this time, If you have any questions, please feel free to ask.

Six months after the Longest Night, six months of talking to Eric on the phone, texting him, meeting for lunch or quiet walks, the emerging feeling that there was more than sexual attraction between the two of them. It was, as Shitty would say, ride or die, for him at least.

 

He didn’t push anything and they hadn’t slept together since the Longest Night. He wanted to, but it didn’t feel as if he should. He’d never make Eric choose. Jack might feel some twinges of jealousy at the thought of Eric sharing his body with others, but his mother had imparted the ethics of her homeland, raised him to think like a D’Angeline. He understood first and foremost Eric belonged to Namaah. And even if Namaah stayed out of it, he had no right to dictate to Eric what he did with his body.

 

But.

 

Elua’s first precept was Love as Thou Wilt. And he did love. He loved Eric. He wondered sometimes, the depth of Eric’s feelings and if he felt the same. He’d feel the heavy weight of his gaze when Eric seemed to think he didn’t know. The placement of a hand on his cheek. A kiss on his brow in greeting or when they’d part. It felt so much more than Eric simply applying his gift, his work. Maybe he should say something, but just as he worked up the nerve, decided it could be the right time, life became busy; the end of school and signing with the Falconers, settling into his new apartment and training. Time slipped from him.

 

Eric seemed thoughtful and quiet when they met. And then, before he could declare or ask or be at his side and worship him, Eric left without a word. Asking Larissa about it, she’d hesitated and said he’d gone home. He’d left and flown back to Terre d’Ange six months after arriving.

 

So Jack did the most ridiculous, impulsive thing he could think of and booked a flight, went to the airport and flew to Terre d'Ange.

 

After arriving, he made his way out of the airport and flagged down a taxi. He asked the driver to take him to Balm House and he jiggled his leg the entire trip.

 

The taxi pulled up in front of the house and he hopped out, grabbed his overnight bag and paid. He stood in front of the gate and pressed the intercom, a slight feeling of déjà vu floated in his head. A pleasant voice asked his name.

 

“I’m Jack Zimmermann. My mother is Alicia nó Eglantine Zimmermann. I don’t have an appointment, but wondered if I could speak to the Dowayne. It’s urgent.”

 

A long wait and then the voice said, “Welcome. Please enter.” The gate swung open and he hurried up the path. The front entrance looked exactly the same. A servant stood there to usher him in. He led him to the main foyer. The familiar scents of lavender and incense put him strangely at ease even though his body still hummed with anxiety.

 

The Dowayne of the House, not Morraine Travers this time, entered. “Welcome, Jack Zimmermann. My name is Dowayne Marcus Romilly. How can Balm House be of service?”

 

Feeling awkward, he said, “Um, yes, well, I am looking for someone. A former adept of your house. Eric nó Balm? Do you know where I can find him?” This was a ridiculous, half-assed plan. Eric wouldn’t be here. He should have asked his friends where he might be.

 

Dowayne Romilly stared at him, head tilted to one side, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It so happens I do know where Eric nó Balm is but I may not be at liberty to say.”

 

Jack frowned. “You may not?’

 

“Please come with me to my office, where we might talk.”

 

The Dowayne led Jack to a sparsely decorated but comfortable room. He offered him a chair and sat across. “I am curious to know, although this may not be any of my business, why you are seeking Eric. I was not his Dowayne. He’d earned his marque before I took over after Dowayne Travers’s retirement, but I knew Eric, watched him grow up here and perhaps I see in him a younger brother. I have his best interests at heart.”

 

Jack shifted in his seat. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. What could he say? He hadn’t thought this through and it was on total impulse he was here in the first place.

 

He opened his mouth again and the words that came out were not the words he’d intended. “I think I love him.”

 

The Dowayne turned his head to look out the window, a soft smile on his lips. He turned back to Jack. “Do you know why Balm House reveres Naamah?”

 

“Uh, yes. It’s said she lay with the King of Persis in compassion, to ease his soul. He was in pain and she healed him.”

 

“Correct. She healed him out of compassion and out of love. You say you think you love Eric. Is your intent or your love for him a superficial thing? Or is your love more of Namaah?”

 

Jack thought for a minute. He hadn’t planned on saying any of this to anyone but Eric. “I don’t believe it’s infatuation. I know I haven’t known him long, but something is there underneath. I love him to the depth of my being.”

 

“Eric has gone to the Temple of Naamah in Navarre. He came to us last week and we spoke of things that aren’t for me to share. If you wish to see him, you must go there. I can’t tell you whether or not he feels the same, that’s his story. But I will say he prayed with me and visited with the head priest of Namaah’s temple in the City.” He was silent for a minute and then said, “Naamah is compassionate, as we at Balm House know better than most. It is our belief that she will forgive most transgressions if they’re done in the name of love. Elua, of course, believes that to love is the purest thing a person can feel. As I said, I can’t tell you what Eric told me but I can say the choices he has made were because of love.”

 

Jack, although not entirely sure what the Dowayne implied, felt a flicker of hope rise in his chest.

 

Standing, he thanked him and asked if he could use the phone. He needed to get to the temple quickly and he made arrangements to rent a car.

 

He arrived at the temple in the early hours of the morning. Surrounded by a small forest and nearby streams, the surrounding are had been preserved from much of the urban sprawl. Many birds, in particular, Namaah’s doves, filled the trees.

 

Parking the car he sat for a minute, clutching the steering wheel. He’d made a huge mistake. Eric wouldn’t want to see him. He’d come because he needed to speak to the priests of the temple about other things, other choices, nothing to do with him. Waves of panic began to build inside and he tried some deep breathing to control it. He could hear his father’s voice in his head, helping him count his breaths. Remembering his father helping him with this brought to mind something his father once said, quoting one of his hockey uncles, “You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.” If he didn’t try and talk to Eric, he’d never know, and that would be so much worse than getting shot down.

 

With a final deep breath, he got out of the car and went to the entrance where a red-robed acolyte of Namaah greeted him.

 

“Welcome, and may the love of Namaah bless you.”

 

“Um, hello. I’m looking for a Servant of Namaah, Eric nó Balm? I was told I might find him here.”

 

The acolyte, a young woman with merry eyes, smiled at him and said, “Won’t you come into the temple while I see if I may tell you whether or not Eric nó Balm is here.”

 

She led Jack to an inner courtyard where he sat beside a fountain. He closed his eyes, lifted his face to the morning sun and prayed to Namaah, Elua and the other Companions, hoping he had chosen rightly.

 

The air warmed with the rising sun and the scent of honey teased his nose. The wait gave him time to wonder once again if he’d made a mistake, if Eric had escaped to the temple to avoid him.

 

But he had to know.

 

“Jack?”

 

Startled, he opened his eyes and saw Eric. “Eric, um, hi, I…”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, shrugged and said, “I came to see you.”

 

Eric came and stood in front of him. He raised his arm and touched Jack’s face. “You came all the way to Terre d’Ange to find me?”

 

“Yeah.” Jack blushed. “It, I, it seemed like the thing to do.”

 

“Do you know why I am here?”

 

“No? Not really?”

 

Eric laughed and shook his head. He smiled at Jack, a joyous smile, freer and easier than had graced him in a while. “I’m here to renounce my vows and to leave Namaah’s service. Or sort of.”

 

“But why? And how do you sort of leave Namaah’s service?”

 

“Let’s sit down and I’ll explain.” They sat together near the fountain. “I left because I felt I couldn’t be true to the calling. I’ve been having doubts. I think I said as much at the Longest Night party. “ He took Jack’s hand in his and twined their fingers together. “I don’t know if you feel the way I do, but I suspect you might.

 

“The more time spent with you, the more I knew I had to be with you.” Jack could see him searching his eyes and he nodded, answering the unspoken question. Eric leaned forward and kissed Jack, tenderly at first and then with more heat, his tongue flicked at the edges of his lips and Jack’s mouth parted, inviting Eric in. They kissed with lips and tongue. A thrill of something profound vibrated in his chest and Jack heard the unmistakable sound of bird wings and Eric tasted of honey. A presence of something beautiful and loving filled the back of his mind.

 

Jack’s eyes fluttered open to see Eric as he pulled back.

 

“Tell me what you heard just now?”

 

“I heard the sound of wings.”

 

“Every time I am with you I hear the sound of wings and when I kiss you I taste honey.”

 

Jack nodded. “Just now, but I don’t think I’ve noticed before.”

 

         “When I was dedicated to Namaah, the priest blessed me and placed a honey cake in my mouth to know the sweetness of Namaah and of desire. Her presence, her acceptance filled me. It was the only time I felt Namaah’s blessing.” He paused, his cheeks rose with colour and he looked down at their joined hands. “Until I met you. The first night I could feel her blessing and when you told me your troubles, I could hear the murmur of doves. The night we spent together at midwinter, Naamah was with us, I could see her face in my mind and your kisses were like honey.

 

“When I see you I hear wings, there is light surrounding us and her face is in my mind. When I kiss you, when I lie with you. Jack, I never, ever experienced that with any other patron. Ever. I could feel her near and I knew what I did pleased her, but it never filled me to overflowing. Not like with you. I wondered if I had incurred Namaah’s wrath after the first night because we didn’t worship her with our bodies. I knew, I really understood that wasn’t what you needed, but I doubted myself. I tried for six years and I know I helped other patrons, but not once did Namaah’s presence fill me.”

 

His eyes brimmed with tears. “I came here to renounce my vows. I came here so I can be with you and you alone if you’ll have me. The priests assured me that they believe as I do that I am for you. That together we will worship her.”

 

Jack’s heart beat hard throughout Eric’s speech, unsure. He let go of Eric’s hands and placed his arms around him and pulled him close. He kissed him again and again, chaste and sweet, deep and passionate and with each kiss, the sound of doves filled his mind and the sensuous face of a beautiful and compassion goddess smiled at him.

 


End file.
